


Be Damned

by Clockwork



Series: King Falls Obsessed [1]
Category: King Falls AM (Podcast)
Genre: Love, M/M, Obsession, Preseries, Romance, Shotgun, Spoilers, king falls, missing person, prepodcast, sammy's background, shotgun sammy stevens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-19 05:40:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13697988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clockwork/pseuds/Clockwork
Summary: SPOILERS for the latest ep!Sammy Stevens fell in love with a man obsessed with the supernatural.  Pre podcast, about Sammy's life around the time he became Shotgun.Based on the latest episode! Spoilers for Valentine's Day.





	Be Damned

Sammy didn’t remember when things changed from a massive love for the supernatural and everything that Jack said revolving around the town of King Falls. Still he blames himself for not paying attention enough, for not giving more time to what Jack cared about, but that wasn’t truly it. It didn’t happen from one day to the next. There wasn’t a single moment. It was a love that turned into an obsession, but Sammy still tried desperately to figure out the exact moment.

Even from the time they had met, Jack’s life had surrounded around three things. His sister, his job, and the supernatural. Not necessarily in that order. Though eventually it became four, the supernatural was one of his greatest delights in his life. 

When they had abandoned Lily, moving together to make Shotgun Sammy one of the top rated show in their area, and syndicated at that, that love had come with them. All of it packed up in boxes and totes, unpacked before his dishes were on the shelves. There weren’t even sheets on the bed that night when they curled up together, exhausted from unpacking and smiling as they shared the glee of making this show, their team, a reality. The guest room though was nearly set up though. 

A bookcase filled with books, another loaded with enough electronics to detect a whisper from a mile away. Even the first of the red string boards had been hung, their red yarn threads having been carefully pinned in place for transport, and Jack had delighted in the knowledge that they hadn’t seemed to have moved an inch. Sammy took his word for it though, knowing they could now link Nessie to Bigfoot and he would be none the wiser. That obsession was always first and foremost in Jack’s life, and maybe that’s why the change was never obvious.

Not until after the fact. Not until it was too late.

Life was madness then. Delightful. Perfect. Amazing. Madness. The radio show of Sammy’s dreams, where he was equally loved and hated and pulled in ratings that he could have only imagined before Jack had negotiated the deal of a lifetime. Suddenly Sammy had a house that he hadn’t even decorated himself but was great for parties. He had a fixed gear bike with more miles on it than his car, and a car that he looked damn good in but he and Jack only used to get out of the city. 

They had gone from small time to the life of their dreams, and they were doing it together. Even if no one knew, they knew it was together and that was all that mattered. 

There were a lot of days they spent at Jack’s, despite the house Sammy kept, with a bottle of wine, a lot of take away, and indulging in the things that mattered the most to them.

So why Sammy worked on his guests, his interviews, his plans for the show that week so that Jack would work out the programming for the week, Jack would be working on his “evidence”.

For many they began to believe in the supernatural once they had proof they couldn’t refute. Jack was the kind of man that believed until proven otherwise. Since you couldn’t disprove most supernatural things such as cryptids and ghosts, Jack was more than willing to accept anything at face value as being worthy of his exploration. 

It led to arguments about whether or not yetis and bigfoots were the same species or not. There were long nights into the wee early morning light as trying to decide if the evp that Jack captured actually says killed or was it just the rustle of his jacket when they had explored into an abandoned hospital the month before. Sammy hadn’t even been a skeptic, which best described Jack’s sister Lily. Sammy was a denier. He didn’t believe in ghosts. There was no afterlife. Lake monsters were old fish, and vampires were nothing more than fantasy and a desperate need for romance. But it mattered to Jack, so now it mattered to Sammy.

He might not believe, but he learned. He learned the stories of Mothman, and why so many old hospitals would be the first places to be haunted. Sammy listened to the horror stories of asylums that housed children, and he took notes at the talks they attended. On the air he was Shotgun Sammy. Shockiest of shock jocks with a foul mouth, a lot of attitude, and an unrepentant attitude that people were there merely to be baited by him, for his amusement and the amusement of his audience. Jack was his straight man, that sweet voice of nonsense and reason, soothing and mocking a the same time. 

Off the air though they were best friends, lovers, in love and Sammy encouraged Jack in what mattered to him.

Even as things changed. It was no longer the evp they had collected, but stories of a civil war General in a state that wasn’t even involved in the war who could cause a man to get lost for hours on roads that should only lead to one place. It was talks not of sea creatures but of Kingsy and Bass tournaments. It took a while before Sammy realized that things had changed for Jack. Life wasn’t about the supernatural, it was about King Falls.

It was about vampires of southern families, and posing as their own progeny. There was talk of werewolves, of white roses, demonically possessed houses, and mysterious woods. Even Santa Klaus came up in Jack’s talks as the walls in the guest room changed.

The old maps had been taken down and they had been replaced with a singular town. King Falls. Pins marking vampire nests next to pictures of a house that looked like it belonged on PeachTree Lane in Georgia during the civil war. Hazy images of the lake monster that was protected by the man that ran the docks. Even some petals from the white roses, sealed in plastic and stuck to the board beside the small near shack in the mountains where Jack said they had a radio station. 

Life had changed, again, and Sammy hadn’t even seen it coming this time. It hadn’t been like the new job that had been sudden and overwhelming and desired all at the same time. This was insidious. It snuck up on them until even work was filled with talk of King Falls.

Jack would use their advertising breaks to talk about the old lady at the frog fryers who told him about the mayor and how proud the city was to be named Best Small Town in America for the fifth year. Maybe it had been the fourth? Sammy had nodded, wondering why Jack was talking to people in a town that had nothing to do with them, but it made Jack happy and that was all that mattered to Sammy.

Maybe it should have mattered more though. Maybe he should have asked questions, wondered why the weird ass happenings in some small nothing town mattered so much to Jack. Maybe he should have put his foot down and told Jack he was getting crazy about this shithole and maybe he should talk to someone about it. Not Sammy but someone like a shrink to try and help him cope with why this place was taking up all of his time, all his thoughts. Maybe Sammy could have done fucking anything but stay silent until he found himself standing there, staring at a running car, calling out Jack’s name as if he was just around the corner of the garage. As if it was just a prank and if he showed Jack he was scared enough, he’d show himself and they’d both have a good laugh. 

Except there was no laughing. Not anymore.

The police had been less than helpful. First not even listening to him much beyond to say that a grown adult wasn’t missing unless it had been three day. Finally just asking them to check around, to watch for anything that might be Jack. He didn’t say it out loud. He couldn’t bring himself to say it. To ask if they found a body that might be Jack to please call him. They only half assed listened about the car left running, or that his wallet was still there, asking why Sammy was there at his place and in a city like that he wouldn’t have thought he’d have to deal with shit like that. But he was dealing with it, and he was getting it from the cops who were supposed to be helping.

Just like the shit he got from Lily, asking him what he had said to Jack, demanding to know what they had fought about, why Jack would have left his car, why had he left his own home and not just thrown Sammy out.

He spent days calling their friends, the others at the radio station, walking the neighborhood until his feet hurt and the dogs knew his scent so well they didn’t even bark at him any longer. He was back at the precinct to the minute, filling a missing person report and asking anyone who would listen if there was anyone, anything, that might explain what happened to the man he loved.

Two weeks later he had a routine. The show was an afterthought, only even going into the station to use the show to look for Jack, to ask others to help. His ratings had tanked, the station manager was pissed as hell, and Sammy just didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was Jack.

The narrow focus had blinded Sammy to one thing though. It was somewhere in the late night hours, beyond when even romance shows with their rumbly voiced DJs and rave driven dance “shows” had ended when Sammy found himself standing in the guest room, staring at the map that covered the wall. 

Lake Hatchenhaw. Granny Frickards. Perdition Woods. 

Reaching out, his fingers brushed against the bag of now brown rose petals pinned on the side of what was a mountain with a long, winding road leading to it. King Falls AM. 

Pulling out his phone, Sammy did a quick search. It didn’t take long to find an email, the name of the station manager. Merv. It took three tries to get the email written without typos, to try and express how desperately he wanted a place at the station. He didn’t care if it was on the air, anything that could get him into King Falls as more than some tourist driving through. 

Hitting send, his gut twisted, painful and raw and bile rose in the back of his throat as Sammy raised his gaze once more to the map. All of the times that Jack had talked about this damn town in the middle of nowhere came flooding back to him. It was a painful barrage that flooded his brain and attacked his heart as Sammy took pictures of the map, gathering up all of Jack’s notes and shoving them into a messenger bag before heading for the kitchen. Tossing out everything, he unplugged the fridge, grabbed the trash bag and all of Jack’s notes and headed for the door.

By the time he got a message back from this Merv, last name unknown, not offered and never found, offering him a prime late night position because an interestingly named “Diamond Dave” had suddenly abandoned, and Sammy didn’t hesitate. An email was as good as a handshake these days, and he was already packed by the time they had settled and he had a contract in his inbox. It could be signed in person when he got there. 

Packing the car that he had hardly driven, leaving his fixie behind and the house dark, he had headed out with a single destination in mind, and a name to ask for when he got there. King Falls was down the road before him, and whoever this Ben was, he could produce Sammy’s show but he wouldn’t be his producer. Not really. Not like Jack had been. 

Heading for this damned town that, for all Sammy knew, was truly cursed, all he knew was that his answers about Jack had to be there, and he would find them. Vampires, and lake monsters, and haunted woods be damned.

Even if the last would have it’s laugh at his sake before Sammy even realized what was going on.


End file.
